


Cut

by orphan_account



Series: Release [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Leaves Beacon Hills, Derek is Not a Failwolf, Eating Disorders, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Eternal Sterek, Hurt Stiles, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, New York City, Sad Stiles Stilinski, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles Has Nightmares, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Needs a Hug, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-19 18:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14243418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Derek wanted to take Stiles far away from Beacon Hills. Away from the town that had brought him so much pain and heartache. The town that made him stop eating.They planned to leave, until they didn’t. Until Stiles needed to find a new way to find release after that which he had feared the most, happened.Warning: this story contains triggers about self-harm and eating disorders, but it will have a positive ending.This story can be read as a standalone story, but if you really want to know more about the details, you should read the previous story Food first. You don’t have to though if you don’t want to.Cut was written as a request of readers, who wanted to find out what happened next to Stiles after the events in Food.





	1. The Healing

 

**Cut**

**Chapter One: The Healing**

Stiles never remembered in detail how the urge to Not-Eat, as he called it, started, but he did remember where it had lead him. It had lead him straight into Derek’s arms.

He had starved himself deliberately. At first it was out of fear that he would never be able to eat normal again, after a Rogue Alpha had harmed him so badly he thought he would choke on food.

Then it was out of pain and anger and upset and hurt and anxiety and so many other things he had bottled up inside of himself over the past years. He had wound up unconscious in Derek’s arms.

After that, he had spent days lying in Derek’s bed, hooked up to an IV, set up by Melissa. His friends had been desperate and anxious, begging and pleading with him to stop Not-Eating.

He couldn’t at first. Stiles knew that they wouldn’t understand why he had stopped digesting food. They asked him why he was doing this to himself. Why he was starving himself like that. He didn’t have the answers.

He just knew that he had to, because it was the only thing that he could control. It was the only thing he had power of. The one thing that he could still control. All the rest was in the hands of darkness.

When he finally came to realize how much his friends and dad were hurting, Stiles ate again. He started eating when Derek promised to take him to New York, far away from Beacon Hills, where life was normal and they could be normal people, like everybody else.

Stiles knew that he had to do this. He had to leave town and decide to live again. He couldn’t die, like he had intended to do at one point in time. He couldn’t starve himself to death, he couldn’t leave those who loved him so much, behind. He ate again.

It didn’t go well at first. Stiles was too starved and too damaged to just go from sick to normal again. The soup Derek had made for him on the night the Not-Eating had stopped, had been puked out in Derek’s toilet a few minutes later.

The water he drank after that, had wound up in the toilet bowl too. Stiles just couldn’t hold anything up. His body refused to cooperate. He was very sick, on the verge of being lost. Everyone around him knew that, but they didn’t want to comment on it out of fear he would run away and die somewhere alone.

Everything that Stiles ate over the days after he had decided to give his life another go, had wound up in the toilet. Meal after meal, drink after drank. Stiles was tired of it. He was tired of puking his guts out, from having stomach problems and bowel problems and being weak as hell.

He had to be carried around by Derek when his legs refused to cooperate after another puke-session. Derek even brushed his teeth at one point. He put him in the shower, totally naked and washed him. He washed his hair too. He washed his private parts. He didn’t look at them.

Stiles passed out at least six times in the days that followed, usually when his body decided it was too weak to cope with reality or food. Melissa forced him to lie back on the bed when he just couldn’t function anymore and shoved another needle into his arm.

He screamed at her. She threatened to have him admitted at the hospital where they could monitor him and feed him more properly if he ever dared to complain again. Then she burst into tears and begged him to start again.

She called a few dieticians and specialists on eating disorders and devoured hours’ worth of info online. She came up with a plan to build it up slowly. He vowed to get better. He swore that this was not what he wanted to happen. He wanted to get better, to get the hell out of dodge and onto a plane to New York.

They all believed him since there was no lie in his heart. He wanted to heal. He wanted Derek. He never wanted this.

Stiles started out with toast, forgetting all the rest of food. Small bits of toast and lots of sodas, making sure that his sugar levels would get up. It hurt like hell. He tasted and felt every single crumb that slid through his oesophagus.

He didn’t want to eat toast at all. But he did it. He kept it in. Bananas were next. He managed that too. More sodas. Tea. Hot tea with loads of honey and a crumbled cookie on the side. He ate and drank it all. Melissa smiled.

Derek cancelled the tickets to New York, telling him they would go when he was getting better. It was the thought of going there that kept Stiles on his feet. He was determined to leave this place. He wanted to so badly. He wanted to get the hell out of here forever.

Scott didn’t get him. Stiles knew that. Scott was so worried about him, hopping by at least for times per day, but he never got why Beacon Hills had done this to Stiles. He pleaded several times with his mom to take Stiles to the hospital, but she wouldn’t cave.

Derek refused adamantly instead of Melissa, telling Scott that Stiles would die for sure if he had to go to the hospital. Scott didn’t get that a hospital meant bad memories for Stiles. Memories of his mom, of the Nogitsune, of Theo and of his dad. Stiles didn’t need that sort of memories. He needed an anchor.

Derek held on. Stiles held on. His dad held on. Melissa remained persistent. Derek won the mental battle against Scott. Stiles wasn’t admitted at the hospital and the sheriff didn’t intervene.

He was working like crazy to save up enough overtime and money so he could to go New York with them for a longer period of time. Stiles stayed with Derek the whole time. He was pampered and healed slowly but surely.

Melissa secretly agreed with Scott that Stiles shouldn’t be at home, but she didn’t say it out loud. At one point, when things still went too slowly for her reasoning, she told Stiles and Derek that they had three more days to do things their way. If she didn’t see any weight gain or progress by then, she would go over Derek’s head and call an ambulance.

Stiles drank as much soda as he could and started eating more toast, combined with bananas and apples. He ate biscuits they fed babies. He gained some weight and color on his face. He started feeling better.

He spent some time in the living room, watching television with Derek, who never complained and never said that he wasn’t healing fast enough. More often than not, he fell asleep, leaning against Derek. He would wake up in his bed, under the covers that kept his shivering form warm.

At one point, Derek bought a second TV and moved it to the bedroom. They spent hours on top of the blankets then, with Stiles’ head resting on Derek’s chest.

Derek never commented either. He never told Stiles he wasn’t doing things the right way. He never made a remark about his skin tone or his pale features or the way that his arms and legs were so skinny now.

He still helped Stiles take showers, where the teenager didn’t even complain about standing buck naked in front of the wolf. He didn’t care, even though he felt embarrassed as hell about his skinny features and thought he was ugly as hell.

Derek gave him a washcloth and told him to wash his private parts while he held him up. That, when Stiles was slowly feeling better, was something he could do on his own now. Under the hot streams of water, Stiles rubbed himself before handing the cloth back to Derek.

The wolf then washed his hair gently, stroking his fingers through Stiles’ hair while massaging his aching scalp. Derek was so sweet and careful with him, it made Stiles weep. He even was gentle when he placed his mouth on Stiles’ chapped lips and told him he loved him.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles croaked. “I’m so sorry about everything.”

“You don’t need to feel sorry about anything at all,” Derek whispered while he placed a towel around Stiles’ skinny form. “It’s not your fault. It’s this fucking town’s.”

Stiles wasn’t surprised Derek cursed. He knew the wolf had left for the same reason too. He got it. He got the way Stiles felt. He saw then when his fingers stroked gently over Stiles’ right shoulder, over the scar that Donovan had left behind. He noticed it when those same fingers followed the lines of the other scars that Stiles had gotten as a result of his life here.

Derek leaned in and kissed the scarred skin, telling Stiles he was beautiful. He never tried anything else, never took advantage of the situation or tried to touch him below the waist. He knew that this was not the time.

Stiles never even noticed that Derek was naked too.

Stiles ate some more and drank some more soda and mentally prepared himself to leave his friends behind for a while as he recovered. He was getting better, healing properly and wanted to make plans. He wanted to get out of here soon. He wanted to make his dad happier too. He wanted to be with Derek forever.

Derek booked the tickets to New York again after ten days, when Stiles managed to eat his first sandwich without puking his guts out. They were ready for it.

One hour later, Sheriff Stilinski was shot.


	2. The Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for commenting and giving kudos on the first chapter! 
> 
> In this chapter Stiles needs to learn how to deal with his grief.  
> Warnings: may contain a trigger for self-harm, but don't worry. Stiles has friends who love him.

**Chapter Two: The Bullet**

 

Derek had to help Stiles when they rushed to the hospital. The teenager was by far not healthy enough to take long walks, let along run like crazy with the condition his body was in. The teenager almost fell forward when he stumbled inside the hospital lobby, heading to the ER with all the strength he still had in him.

“Stiles, calm down.”

Instantly, Stiles followed suit when he found Melissa groping him by the arms, holding him up while she examined his face. He knew she was trying to assess if he was even capable of hearing the bad news she was about to give him. He could tell by the look in her eyes that it was pretty serious.

Derek grabbed Stiles tight and pulled him gently away from her, giving Melissa the time to return to the professional mode she needed in order to talk to the boy she considered her second son.

Only a week ago, she had seen Stiles lying awfully quiet on the bed, with an IV inside his arm, feeding him. Keeping him alive. It had broken her heart to watch him starve himself. She seemed happy to see him up and about, but she also knew that he would collapse once he found out what was happening to his dad.

She understood where his anxiety and Not-Eating came from. She worked with trauma patients, which was exactly what Stiles had been after the Rogue. He had been devastated and hurt when he was attacked by the creature, hurt so badly it nearly cost him his life.

Now, looking at him like he stood there, he wasn’t doing that much better, but at least he spoke, was walking and was able to stand up without collapsing every two seconds. She also saw that he had some flesh back on his bones. He had some color on his cheekbones too.

Melissa’s heart broke when she realized what was going through his mind right now. She knew exactly how guilty he felt. If Stiles had been able to hold down his food better, they would have been in New York by now and his dad would not have been shot. He would have been okay.

Stiles put the blame on himself, like he usually did. He blamed himself because Noah was shot in the line of duty, where he should have been fine in New York. She knew she would never be able to stop that feeling from taking over. It troubled and concerned her.

“He’s alive,” she started, gazing over Stiles at Derek, who stood by his side and held him upright in support, which pleased her. “He’s alive, but he’s still in surgery. He was shot twice. The first bullet went straight through his left arm with hardly any serious damage done. The second one ended up in his abdomen.”

Stiles paled, swaying on his legs while he clutched Derek’s arm hard.

“He’s going to lose his spleen, Stiles and we fear that he might lose a kidney too,” Melissa continued honestly. “The bullet exploded inside of him. It was a special type of bullet, one created to cause a lot of damage. Your dad was trying to stop a drug deal going down and those guys … well, they have the weapons that would need such bullets.”

“He might still die then?” Stiles asked with a small voice.

Behind Melissa, the door opened, allowing Malia, Lydia and Scott in. They ran up to them, surrounding Stiles like a warm and protective blanket. Melissa saw how the kid needed that, but it didn’t seem enough.

“He might still die,” Melissa spoke honestly. “But he won’t. Your dad is a fighter, we know that. We’ve seen him pull through the worst before, kiddo. He’ll live. I know he will.”

“I did this,” Stiles spoke in tears.

“No, you didn’t. You are not to blame, you hear me?” Melissa spoke firmly, stroking Stiles’ pale face. “This is not on you.”

She shared a gaze with Derek, who frowned lightly and then understood where this was coming from. Scott didn’t. He looked at Stiles in shock. Malia and Lydia said nothing, but Melissa could tell they got it too.

“I should have eaten,” Stiles muttered. “I should have listened to you. I should have healed faster. Should have … we should have been in damned New York by now.”

“Stop it,” Derek spoke sharply, probably harsher than he intended. “You didn’t pull that trigger. This is not on you.”

“But I’m the reason he was still here, Derek,” Stiles sniffed. “I made sure he was around to get that bullet in his gut.”

He was stopped when Scott hugged him, followed by Lydia and Malia. His best friends surrounded him, caring for him more than he would ever know.

“You are not to blame,” Scott said firmly. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

“Then who do I blame?” Stiles asked quietly. “If not me?”

“Blame the bastard with the gun in his hand,” Derek said sharply.

“Melissa.”

The group was stopped by the doctor heading towards them. The man looked so serious they were convinced it would be bad news. Stiles shivered and stood on shaking knees, supported by Derek and Scott while he looked at the doctor.

“He made it through surgery,” the man spoke. “But it will be touch and go for a while. He’s in pretty bad shape, I’m afraid. It’s been a rough ride. He lost his spleen, but we could save the kidney. He did have a lot of internal bleeding though and the fragments of that damned bullet were all over the place. We got in just in time.”

“As long as he’s alive, there is hope,” Melissa spoke, firmly reaching for Stiles’ hand. “This is his son. Can we go see him?”

“Sure.”

“Doc, thank you,” Stiles whispered hoarsely, looking at the exhausted man. “You saved my dad.”

“I hope so, kid,” the man smiled weakly. “Come on, come with me.”

Stiles’ legs wobbled as he walked besides Melissa and Derek to the ICU-unit where his dad lay. Scott, Lydia and Malia promised to wait for more news and headed down to the cafetaria.

Not so long ago, they had been in the same position. His dad had been hurt then by a Chimera and they had to do whatever it took to find that kid. It was around the time that Scott and Stiles were no longer Scott-and-Stiles. They had patched things up afterwards, but Stiles still remembered those dark days as being the worst of his life.

Until now.

They had saved his dad then, but now, there was nothing he could do for him. He felt powerless, useless, dead inside. He wanted to stop eating again. He wanted to feel the rush of blood to his head and remember what starving himself had felt like. When he was Not-Eating, he didn’t have any other problems on his mind.

If he could restart Not-Eating now, maybe he could forget that he had a dying father. He could be selfish, focus on who he had been when lying in that bed. He could focus on just him and not his dad.

Derek would never let him Not-Eat though. Besides, if he stopped eating, he would never get to New York with his dad if and when he got better. No, he couldn’t afford that. He needed to get his dad out of here too, as soon as possible.

But he was so upset, so angry and so … so devastated. He needed something else to do, a different kind of release. Stiles stared from his shaking hands to his dad and back to his hands.

He wanted to hurt someone so badly. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to … he wanted control. He wanted to harm someone. Harm himself. Find a way to punish himself without Derek noticing. He didn’t want Derek to see how much he hated himself for not taking his dad away from this town on time.

Derek stood there quietly, not looking at him but at the sheriff, hooked up to machines. Melissa had given them some space. Derek sighed quietly and headed out. Stiles didn’t want to sit down and be with his dad. He wanted to be somewhere else, someplace where machines like this didn’t exist and he could pretend life was a-okay.

Stiles felt suffocated. He needed to get out of here, go somewhere where he could find some peace of mind inside his head. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to puke his guts out. To release the little bit of food he had in his stomach. Maybe he could puke in the toilets.

His dad lay there so quietly, hooked up to machines that kept him alive and he knew that he would lose him. Stiles felt it in his bones. He wanted to call Lydia and ask her if she felt like screaming, but he didn’t move. He didn’t do anything.

He needed control.

“Need to go,” he muttered and left the room in a hurry.

Derek stood in the hallway, talking to Melissa. Stiles hurried past them, almost tripping over his own feet. Before the wolf could react, Stiles rushed to the toilets and hid himself in a cubicle while he took deep breaths and fought hard to regain control.

Once his heart calmed down, minutes later, he was able to leave the stall and watch himself in the bathroom mirror. He knew Derek was out there, waiting for him. He needed to face him, but he needed control first.

He stood alone in front of the mirror, startled at who he had become. For days he had ignored his mirror image. For days, he had been pretending he was healing, but he wasn’t.

“Who did I become?” he whispered, wiping the mirror.

Stiles elbow seemed to get a life of its own. Protected by flannel, it punched itself through the mirror, cracking the glass. He remembered what it felt like to get a shard of glass in his chest. He still saw the scar every single day.

Stiles gently picked up a piece of glass, moved the flannel up and stared at his arm. If he could just … No. No!

Stiles threw the glass down in the sink and stared at his bleeding fingers. The cut stung. It stung badly.

“Stiles?” Derek flew into the bathroom and saw him there, with bleeding fingers and a rolled-up sleeve. “Jesus Christ, Stiles. Don’t … what the hell did you do?”

“Nothing,” Stiles muttered. “I got angry and cracked the mirror. Then hurt my fingers.”

Derek heard the lie, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he rolled down Stiles’ sleeve, wrapped his fingers in cloth and took him outside.

“Never,” Derek said sharply. “You are not going there. Not. Ever. Do you hear me? Do you get that, Stiles?”

“It was a thought on my mind,” Stiles confessed in a whisper. “But I didn’t do it.”

“And you won’t. Not ever. Not while I’m around.” The words came out growling.

“I – Der, don’t be so worried,” Stiles muttered.

“Shut up.”

Derek’s words hurt him. It wasn’t the words in itself, but the tone of voice and the hurt in his eyes. Stiles knew he was hurting Derek. He was taking mental and emotional energy away from him where he needed it for something else.

“I won’t go there. Ever. I swear.”

Stiles looked Derek in the eye. He knew the wolf couldn’t find a lie in his heartbeat.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Stiles allowed Derek to take him back to the waiting room, where Melissa was sitting down with the rest of the pack, telling them in what bad shape the sheriff was. Stiles bit his lip while he listened to her words. Her confession that it was bad, startled him.

They were going to lose him. Stiles could feel it. He saw it in Lydia’s eyes. He wanted to scream. To Not-Eat. To Not-Sleep. To Not-Live. He couldn’t lose his dad.

With tears in his eyes he turned to Scott, his voice a whisper.

“Can you give my dad the bite?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again! If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment or a kudos.  
> That is very much appreciated!


	3. The Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos on this story!  
> The circle is nearly complete. In this chapter, Stiles finally begins to heal.

**Chapter Three:  The Healing**

 

They didn’t end up giving the sheriff the bite after all. He healed all on his own, even though it took quite some time and a lot of effort and patience to do so.  In the end, that turned out the best thing for Stiles too.

During the first night, his condition started improving rapidly. In the morning, he woke up. The first name he mentioned when he did, was Stiles. But his son wasn’t by his side when he woke up.

Derek’s plan was to take Stiles home that night, while Melissa – off duty by then – would stay with Noah in case he woke up.

That was the plan, but it didn’t work out that way.

Stiles screamed when Derek said he would take him home to get some rest. Scott and the others had stuck around, trying to persuade him too, telling him they would stay by his side so he could rest up.

Stiles didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay. He refused to leave his dad’s bedside. Derek had been adamant though. He gave Stiles the choice: stay here but in a hospital bed or go home with him and leave the sheriff’s care up to Melissa.

Stiles stared at Derek in shock, whispering that he would not leave his dad’s side. That Derek had no right to force him to go away. Stiles was the next of kin and he had a right to be there. if Derek didn’t understand that, he just had to go and leave him alone.

“You forfeited the right to stick around when you refused to eat,” Derek growled angrily.

His words struck home. Stiles stared at the wolf with such sadness, Derek knew he had struck a chord. It was true, all that he said. Stiles hadn’t eaten. He had lied about it over the past few hours and he had tried to hide it. There was only one thing that really mattered though: in the end, he hadn’t touched any food at all.

It was clear to them all that Stiles was by far not the person he had been before the Rogue attacked him. He wasn’t healed at all. Every trigger or setback seemed enough to wear him down. Not-Eating was the way for him to cope. Cutting had been taken away from him before he even got the chance to go there.

Derek caved in. He decided to stick around with Stiles in the waiting room after all, while the other kids went home. Only Melissa stuck around, telling Derek quietly that they needed to watch Stiles, who had slumped down on the chairs and just sat there, wavering between waking and sleeping.

He was so pale, Melissa thought he could blend in with the sheets lying on top of the sheriff. Stiles didn’t sleep or eat most of the night, lingering between oblivion and reality as they waited for more news. Now and then he would get up and go check on his dad, but there was never a change.

He would not eat or sleep after those quick visits either. Derek had told him to do both, using that growl again. Stiles had bitten a piece of an apple and then puked it out in his hand. He was too weak and his stomach was too upset. He couldn’t hold it in.

Derek took a handkerchief and wrapped the chunk of apple in it, throwing it in the garbage bin with a sigh. He turned around to reprimand Stiles, only to find him sinking through his knees without a single sound.

He would have crushed his skull on the tiled floor had Derek not been there. He shouted for help. Nurses came rushing towards them. Melissa was amongst them. She told her colleagues in quick words that Stiles was recovering from an eating disorder.

After that, they had the decision on what to do with Stiles taken from their hands. They brought a bed and lifted him on it. They did multiple tests in the ER which showed he was severely malnourished, dangerously underweight, dehydrated and simply at the end of his physical rope.

His heartbeat was too slow, his vitals were dangerously off and he showed signs of diabetic coma. They immediately started tube feeding him, adding vitamins and fluids to the cocktail too. They kept him in a medically induced coma for a day, making sure his body received plenty of time to recover.

They said he needed to stay in the hospital for at least a week while they fed him whatever his body needed to come back from this. They would assign consultants and therapists and talk to him. He would need psychiatric help and a lot of support from his friends and family.

He was kept in a semi-guarded room, with Derek sitting by his bedside, watching how the tubes pushed fluids into him. The medication was light, but enough to keep him under for the time being. They told Derek he could go home, but he never did. He sent messages to the others to tell them what was going on.

In the morning, Scott arrived, staring at Stiles while he burst into tears, wondering out loud how it could have come to this. Derek couldn’t reply, but he knew that a big part of him was relieved that Stiles was now under medical care. It had all become too much for him too, even though he would never admit that to anyone.

Melissa felt guilty as hell. Derek never told any of the doctors that she knew about this. He told them that he had just found out about Stiles’ eating disorder for himself and that he had told Melissa that afternoon, when they arrived to see the sheriff.

They had been discussing what to do after the sheriff woke up, to make sure not to distress Stiles any further while he waited for news about his dad.

Nobody had reason to distrust Derek, so they took the whole story as reality. Melissa still had trouble coping with the whole thing though, believing Stiles wouldn’t be in so much trouble right now if she had acted properly the first time.

By that time, the sheriff was moved to a private room, recovering. He was pretty upset when Melissa told him what had happened. Then he leaned back and asked if Stiles could recover in the same room. He wasn’t angry or upset. He was relieved. Derek could smell it on him.

They brought Stiles to the same room, where all of them could gather to watch the two Stilinski’s recover. Stiles slept through a day and a night after the sheriff woke up, but when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw, was his dad.

His dad, sitting by his bedside in oversized T-shirt and sweatpants. Still with an IV stuck in his arm but feeling much better and looking as if he had been awake for quite some time. Which could only mean …

Stiles groaned quietly, realizing what had happened. Immediately, his dad, Derek and Scott were by his side, soothing him when he became distressed. His heartbeat picked up rapidly, his eyes became unfocused and his mind seemed to go all of the place. The tube that fed him, seemed too tight and made him choke.

“Stiles, it’s okay,” his dad reassured him.

When Melissa ran in, she managed to calm him down. Doctors came in to talk to him. Then they removed the feeding tube and gave him a diet that would go easy on his stomach, consisting mostly of fluids and pudding.

Those first two days, Stiles did nothing but weep, shout, protect and scream against the people who wanted to help him. He didn’t understand why he had to stay here for a week, why he had to see psychiatrists and therapists and people who all meant well but had never fought a Rogue Alpha.

In the end though, he caved in. It was the look in his dad’s eyes and the sadness in Derek’s that convinced him that he needed to stay strong for that. He didn’t want to go from Not-Eating to Cutting. He wanted to stay Never-Cutting.

He would do anything to get there.

His dad had to stay at the hospital for a week too. It became a therapeutic week for them both. Stiles was taken to his therapists while the sheriff was brought to his. Both needed the time apart to heal but when they came back together, they talked for hours.

Stiles wept some more.

Derek never went away. Sometimes he just sat there with a book saying nothing for hours. It was perfect. Scott and the others as much as they could, barging in with flowers and chocolate and love and care.

That hospital room became their safe haven for a week. It was a home. A home with a TV and a laptop and Derek. They talked some more. They laughed. Stiles was shocked when he heard laughter escaping his own mouth.

He was even more shocked to find out that he was gaining weight and that the food he was given, actually tasted good. Derek couldn’t hide his smile when he finished a full plate on his fifth day. His dad wept.

They stayed two more days than they had to. The sheriff wanted to go home fully healed and Stiles did too. They talked to some more therapists. Derek paid for their hospital stay but didn’t tell them that. He read another book. Scott brought more flowers and happiness to the room.

Stiles gained more weight. He ate more than he had done in weeks.

They were discharged together and were driven home by Derek with a full list of dates to see their therapists. The sheriff asked to drive by the sheriff’s station and then asked Stiles and Derek to walk inside with him.

In front of them, he resigned and asked Parrish to take over.

Shocked, Stiles and Derek stared at the man.

“I was entitled to my retirement and I think it’s time to leave,” the man spoke, looking at his son. “I want to hear my son laugh every single day from now on.”

The sheriff took his son into his arms and then made some more space for Derek. Derek wiped past his eyes and said he would book those tickets to New York again.

Stiles had never felt happier.

 


	4. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it: the end of this two-parter!   
> I hope that you liked it and if you did, please leave me a message or a kudos, that is so much appreciated!   
> Thank you again for reading and following this story.

Chapter Four: The End

 

They were the perfect trio sharing an apartment in Manhattan.

Derek had convinced Stiles to apply for a scholarship at NYU where he could study for a degree in law enforcement. Stiles had declined, saying he had enough of violence for one lifetime. Instead, he decided to try writing, finding that therapeutic.

Derek had offered to pay for his studies, saying he had more money than he could ever spent in five lifetimes. He wanted to use it for something good, to help Stiles and his dad recover. When Stiles refused at first, the wolf had smiled. He had gone down on one knee and asked Stiles to marry him.

Flabbergasted, Stiles had agreed while the sheriff just smiled broadly, knowing his son had just come home. Then Derek had grinned broadly, saying he would pay the tuition as an engagement gift;

The apartment they rented was large enough for the three of them, but the sheriff would move soon nonetheless, telling them he wanted them to have their own space. Besides, with the foresight that Melissa and Scott were planning to move to New York too, they would need more space anyhow.

They loved the building so much Derek decided to buy it. He kept the top loft for himself and Stiles and renovated the two apartments below, one for Scott and Kira and the other one for the sheriff and Melissa. The ones below that, he rented out. The money was enough to provide a steady income.

Derek loved the real-estate business so much he decided to renovate more places and sell them for profit. It turned out to be something he was really good at. Stiles went to college to get a writer’s degree. That turned out to be something he was pretty good at too.

After years of studying, he got his degree and started writing on his first novel while he did the odd freelance job here and there. He was picked up by an agent who sent his first manuscript to various publishers. It was looking quite positive.

The sheriff became a security guard, doing daily rounds with a dog on Times Square, where he kept an eye on things. He loved his job. Melissa transferred and started working in a local hospital. They were engaged to be married.

Scott and Kira lived and worked in New York too. The other members of the pack were scattered all over the country, but they often travelled to New York to hang around with them.

Derek and Stiles got married on a winter’s day, exactly one year after Stiles’ full recovery. He still saw a therapist, but only because he wanted to. He still had dark thoughts but he kept them under control. He still wanted to find ways to get a release, but wrote them down in his books, poetry or short stories.

He learned how to talk to Derek for real, how to express himself and his darker side. Derek understood all too well.

Their wedding was a small gathering with their friends and family, who watched Derek and Stiles get married after giving their heartfelt vows. Stiles knew he would be dead today if it weren’t for Derek and he told him so.

Derek told Stiles he would be dead too if Stiles had left them then. He wouldn’t have been able to cope. Stiles had wept.

When they kissed, Stiles felt as if his life had lead to this point, where there could be nothing but happiness. Nothing but love and care and people who knew what it was like to be sad and happy at the same time.

Stiles knew he was home. He would never have to Not-Eat again.

 

 

The End


End file.
